


Out of the Broom Closet and Into the Fire

by ShiroiKabocha



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Characters Reading Fanfiction, Embarrassment, F/F, Fluff, wizard porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 00:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12782850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiroiKabocha/pseuds/ShiroiKabocha
Summary: You are Rose Lalonde, and when it comes to being a lesbian, you are simply the worst there is.(Your Girlfriend Respectfully Disagrees)





	Out of the Broom Closet and Into the Fire

_Draco shoved the other boy up against the rough wood of the closet door, sending the brooms around them clattering to the ground. Harry let out a moan as the other boy’s hungry tongue caressed the hollows of his neck._

“Really? Using ‘the other boy’ twice in as many sentences?” you mutter. “Once is more than enough.” You keep scrolling.

_Panting for breath, Harry pushed the other boy away. “We can’t do this!” he gasped, emerald eyes wide with apprehension. Draco smirked, gray eyes glittering. “What are you afraid of, Potter?”_

You roll your (gleaming, dusky, orchid, etc.) eyes and heave the deepest sigh, so as to make clear to anyone watching that you’re suitably unimpressed with this writer’s fumbling attempts at sensuality. Not that anyone is watching, of course. Why would anyone be watching? That’s ridiculous. No one is watching.

_Draco took a step closer and planted his hands on either side of Harry, leaning in so close that Harry could feel the radiating heat of Draco’s body along his own._

You glance around the empty storeroom to check for people who certainly aren’t there and totally aren’t watching.

_Draco whispered, lips mere inches from Harry’s, “Scared you’ll like it?”_

You are Rose Lalonde, and when it comes to being a lesbian, you are simply the worst there is.

You don’t mean to be! You’re absolutely head-over-heels in sappy, blushing, heart-fluttery love with the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met. You’ll gladly spend hours doing nothing but gazing at Kanaya while she picks a row of stitches out of a sleeve, and when she holds the garment up to inspect it, fabric stretched between her hands and a needle clasped between her lips, angling her neck just so to shine a little light on the task at hand, well… there’s this _thing._ That happens. Somewhere around your middle. And then you start thinking about all the places on Kanaya that you’d like to put your mouth, and the list of those locations is long and comprehensive, and it makes you feel… _ways_. You feel _ways_ about _things_. The erotic power of Kanaya Maryam’s mere physical presence is enough to reduce your legendary verbosity to the level of “feeling ways about things.” In other words, it’s safe to assume that your feelings for Kanaya run deeper than some schoolgirl’s pseudo-Sapphic intellectual infatuation, and that you definitely have, in Dave’s words, a giant turgid ladyboner for your sexy vampire alien girlfriend.

So you’ve stolen her hubtop and retreated to the darkest recesses of the meteor to masturbate to Harry Potter porn in secret. You are the _worst lesbian_ , Rose. The _worst_.

_The room spun around Harry as Draco slid one hand under Harry’s shirt and the other into his pants. Harry wasn’t sure what to do with his own hands, but he settled on running his fingers through Draco’s silken blond hair while the other boy sucked bruises on Harry’s neck. Draco’s words dripped like poison into Harry’s ear: “Careful, Potter, they say villainy is catching.”_

You should have listened to Jade. She warned you about keeping no fewer than five computers on your person at all times. She told you, dog. But you had to go and bequeath your only laptop—and along with it, your carefully-organized, exhaustively-catalogued collection of unspeakable boy-wizard erotica—to your cat, who promptly disappeared. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, what with the suicide mission and the impending universal hard-reset and all. The thought never occurred to you that you might _survive_ the apocalypse, or that in the years after doing so, the only way to access the remnants of Earth’s internet would be through the mysterious timeline-spanning properties of Trollian, a stubborn program which refused to cooperate with non-Alternian operating systems. Technically speaking, you could use Trollian on the desktop computers Sollux set up in the lab before he popped like a mustard packet and bought a timeshare in the afterlife. But the lab is a public space, and there are some itches best scratched in private.

_Harry moaned again as Draco wedged his leg between the other boy’s thighs. Overcome with a searing hunger, Harry grabbed Draco by his collar and locked his viridescent eyes with the other boy’s slate irises._

“‘Viridescent irises’? Somebody has a well-thumbed thesaurus.” You would be facepalming right now, if your other hand weren’t, uh, otherwise occupied. It occurs to you that you might be conditioning yourself to associate snarky criticism with physical arousal. That could create some fascinating complications down the line, but that’s a problem for future tentacleTherapist, not you.

_“You don’t scare me, Draco,” Harry whispered, his lips barely grazing the other boy’s. “The only thing that scares me is that you’ll stop.” Draco paused, and his face went blank, his silver eyes wide. Harry realized with a start that this was the first time he had ever called Draco by his first name-- at least, the first time he had ever said it out loud. He carefully rested his hand on the other boy’s pale, porcelain cheek._

Was that a noise? You slam Kanaya’s hubtop shut. The seconds drag as you sit frozen stiff, holding your breath, hesitant even to remove your hand from your pants lest the rustle of fabric drown out the sound of an approaching footstep. Nothing? You’re still alone? … all right.

_“P-potter, I…” Draco’s voice sounded like a small child lost in a dark forest. Harry rested his thumb across Draco’s lips. A smile started to bloom on Harry’s face, like the sun rising over rainclouds._

_“It’s all right,” Harry murmured, his heart pounding almost as loudly as Draco’s. “Everything’s going to be all right.” And slowly, gently, as though he was afraid Draco might break, Harry pressed his lips against Draco’s in a soft kiss. And Draco kissed back, his hands sliding down Harry’s sides to rest lightly on his hips. Harry had been frightened when Draco had grabbed him and pulled him into the broom closet, but this… this was entirely different. This felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath them, and Harry couldn’t tell if he was falling or flying._

_This was the most terrifying moment of Harry Potter’s life._

“Rose?”

Now, you’re a reasonable person. It’s true that you indulge in the occasional overwrought metaphor, but you are rarely given to hyperbole. Your fragile mortal body has played host to cosmic powers beyond the ken of human understanding. You have felt the blade of an unbeatable boss slice through your flesh and claim your life (if not permanently). You have been incinerated on a sacrificial altar in the center of an exploding sun. You jumped out of the way of a _burning fucking tree_ , for chrissakes. This moment does not take the prize for “most terrifying moment of Rose Lalonde’s life.”

But it is certainly an honorable mention.

You squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip, hoping against hope that what you heard will prove to have been an auditory hallucination, and not, as you suspect, the voice of your luminous lover come to catch you in an act of heinous impropriety. You turn toward the doorway and risk a peek, and your gaze is met with a familiar ivory glow. Alas.

"Kanaya," you squeak. "Ah, this... I'm sure this doesn't look good."

"I Am Not Certain That It Looks Like Anything Particularly Good Or Bad," Kanaya says, tilting her head to the side and knitting her brow. "Is That My Hubtop?"

Your cheeks burn as your traitorous capillaries betray your guilt with a blush. "It-- this isn't-- I swear, I can explain. I needed to use Trollian, and." Your words don't exactly trail off so much as hit a wall and stop. In the ensuing silence, Kanaya glides toward you and kneels at your side, silent as a sunbeam.

"Please Don't Think That I Am Upset That You Have Borrowed My Hubtop," Kanaya continues, resting her hand on your shoulder. "You Are Welcome To It! I Am Only Confused As To Why You Did Not Tell Me You Had Need Of It. I Also Admit Ignorance Of Any Unique Qualities That Render My Hubtop Preferable To The Computing Devices In The Lab Upstairs, And I Am Puzzled Over Why You Have Sequestered Yourself So Far From--" Her mouth hangs open for half a second as the pieces click together. "Oh." Now it's Kanaya's turn to blush. "You Desired A Portable Computing Device For Use In A... Private Capacity." You bury your face in your hands and briefly wonder if it's possible to smother yourself to death this way. 

"I'm the worst girlfriend ever."

Kanaya slides her arm around your shoulders and hugs you to her side. "While I Cannot Speak To The Objective Veracity Of The Statement, I Assure You That I Share No Such Opinion."

"I don't know what's wrong with me!" You throw your head back and groan. "I stole your computer to read about gay wizards fucking. You're the most lovely, perfect girlfriend I could ever ask for, and I still can't kick this weird, twisted obsession! I disgust myself. I disgust the _universe!_ " Too ashamed to look Kanaya in the eye, you slump and stare at your hands where they've fallen in your lap. "You can break up with me now. Go ahead. I don't blame you."

She moves your head to rest on her shoulder. "I Do Not Believe That Circumstances Are So Dire As To Merit That Course Of Action," she says, pulling the hubtop toward her. "How Disgusting Could These Pursuits Possibly Be?"

Her eyes flick over the screen, and you lunge across her lap to block the text with your arms. "Ugh, it's not even a good one, please don't read it," you mutter. "It'll just lower your opinion of me even more."

"I Do Not See How A Description Of Two Young Spellwranglers Engaged In An Embrace That Challenges Their Previous Quadrant Assumptions Could Have Any Effect On The Esteem In Which I Hold You, Rose." She frowns. "Though I Agree That The Prose Is Lackluster."

"I just clicked on the first thing I could find." You fumble at the trackpad, attempting to close the incriminating window. "I was just-- I don't know, I wanted to return your hubtop as fast as possible, before you realized I'd stolen it. I'm so sorry, Kanaya."

Kanaya strokes your hair and plants a kiss on the top of your head. "We Must Have Differing Definitions Of Theft," she says. "Using A Matesprit's Computing Device Seems A Far Cry From Larceny, To Me." You risk a glance at Kanaya's face. Her lips are pressed together, curled into the barest suggestion of a smile. Her cheeks are flushed bright, almost-- dare you say it-- viridescent?

"So... you're not mad at me?"

"Of Course Not! I Only Wonder..." Kanaya chews on her lip, eyes darting between you and the screen. "Do You Enjoy This Variety Of Erotic Fiction... Exclusively?"

"No! Absolutely not!" You clasp Kanaya's hand and hold it close to your heart. "I read all kinds, not just male pairings-- female, cross-sex, interspecies-- I just like the stories, I'm not secretly yearning for a male touch." You fix Kanaya with the most soulful gaze you can muster. "I promise I won't turn straight on you, Kanaya."

"What Does Straight Mean?"

You pull Kanaya in for a kiss. "Nothing you'll ever have to worry about." She smiles against your lips, and she tastes like-- well, frankly, the taste of Kanaya's skin tends to short-circut the part of your brain that crafts poetic similies. You'll just have to settle for "Kanaya tastes really fucking good and she makes your underpants feel all hot and throbby."

“The Reason I Ask,” Kanaya says, pulling away from the kiss and reaching for the hubtop again, “Is Because… Well If You’d Like--” She laughs a little, and you swear it makes her whole face glitter. “I Have Some Favorites I Could Share With You.”

“You have some _what?_ ” You stare, dumbfounded, as Kanaya maneuvers you into her lap and wraps her arms around you, resting her chin on your shoulder as she taps away at the keyboard on your knees, navigating a byzantine filing system with the speed of practiced familiarity. You’re rusty on your Alternian, but you think you catch the name of a folder called “Nothing To See Here Just Some Particularly Uninteresting Sewing Patterns.” She opens a document filled with alien text arranged in an all-too-familiar format: whatever this fic is, it’s got a shitload of tags and a fuckton of comments. Jesus Christ, Rose, why hasn’t it ever occurred to you to ask Kanaya for recs?

“This One Is A Great Jumping-On Point Even If You Are Unfamiliar With The Canon,” she says, eyes bright. “The Drinker Fandom Attracts The Best Writers.”

Your hands shake as they hover over the scrollbar. The adrenaline rush of your discovery has barely faded, and it’s already sloshing up against a whole new host of nerves brought on by this shocking twist-- which, like so many shocking twists, seems patently obvious in hindsight. “I’d love to read this, babe,” you manage to croak while Kanaya nuzzles your cheek, “but I have trouble with untranslated Alternian.”

“Well Then,” Kanaya says, sliding one hand under your shirt and resting the other one atop your outstretched fingers, just brushing the keyboard. “I Suppose I Will Have To Read It Aloud To You.”

Between kisses, caresses, and grazing bites, Kanaya narrates in a low, smooth voice that vibrates against your back: “In Which A Young Male Rainbow Drinker, Exiled From Jade-Blooded Society For His Sex, Must Brave The Perils Of The Sunlit World And Carve A New Existence For Himself On The Alternian Surface, Wherein He Encounters A Handsome Slayer Of Rainbow Drinkers, Whose Dedication To The Cause Of Drinker-Slaying Is Rivaled Only By His Unbridled Lust For The Protagonist; Tags Include: Kissing, First Time, Drinker Play, Brawls-To-Buckets, Light Bondage, Cuddling, Bloodletting, Hemospectrum Angst, Smooth Jazz…”

You have a feeling it’s going to be a long, excellent night.

**Author's Note:**

> "Out of the Broom Closet and Into the Fire" is supposed to be the name of the cheesy Harry/Draco fic that Rose is reading when Kanaya finds her.


End file.
